


Going Up In Flames

by Hanari502



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Canon-Typical Violence, Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot First Porn Second, Smut, The story is fueled purely on McHanzo spite, There will be Porn, may it continue to fuel me until this ember flickers and dies, which will be never
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8564545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanari502/pseuds/Hanari502
Summary: Some men just want to watch the world burnOthers want Junkrat to stop being a hyper-destructive piece of shit all the time.Roadhog wants both.(Currently on Hiatus)





	1. Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write a story titled Hi My Name Is Junkrat And Welcome To Jackass once upon a time. I didn't like that story very much so I got rid of it.
> 
> Here's a new one I made purely because I'm tired of McHanzo. I'm so tired. There is so much. The junker side of the fandom needs more content.
> 
> GLHF
> 
> Hanari502 on tumblr if you wanna talk to me there!

Flames licked what little rubble remained of the bank, sounds of rapturous yet psychotic laughter echoing from within. A heist gone well, judging from the sound of it. In the shroud of the smoke and fire two figures could be seen fleeing the scene of the crime, booking it for the nearest side street to duck and hide from whatever authorities any innocent bystanders might have called. Their getaway vehicle was expertly stashed in an alleyway just enough out of the way to avoid the blast, as it usually was. Roadhog hauled it out onto the street effortlessly, shifting his weight onto the seat to wait for Junkrat to get at least half of himself in his sidecar. With a thunderous roar the engines revved to life and sent the criminals off, cackling littering the empty street they drove down.

Junkrat and Roadhog, if the media was to be trusted, were criminal masterminds the likes of which Australia had never seen before, even with it’s Junker territories. At it's surface lay a bond held thinly together by a financial promise; half cut of whatever the duo steals, and a year into their partnership this fact still seemed to ring somewhat true. The streets of New Sydney had since been cleared out once word of the two's rampaging caught wind, seemingly making their getaway a breeze. Roadhog had counted on it. Junkrat had planned on it, however what the two hadn't calculated on was the sheer number of pigs that showed up in response. Six cars fell into chase behind them, more cars more than likely on the way. Losing that many determined police officers would be challenging, if not impossible.

Roadhog didn't believe in impossible. He muttered a curse under his breath as the wail of sirens blared behind, his voice muffled and drowned by leather and machinery. 

"Shake them off."

His counterpart grinned, turning in his seat as a message received. “With pleasure!”

Junkrat cackled as he threw several smiley-shaped bombs out of the sidecar, lobbing them into the street behind them. The larger man watched them bounce in his rearview mirror. One. Two. Three.

KABOOM

Two cars fell victim to the bombs, a third swerving around them to evade the blasts. Experienced, probably, Roadhog thought. Or just lucky.

“Y’know, there’s no point ta havin’ clean streets if you’re just gonna muck ‘em up with black cars an’ flashin’ lights.” He heard Junkrat complain over the rush of the wind in his ears. “What they _should_ be mucked up with is _mindless violence_!”

He heard a scrape as Junkrat pulled out not one but _two_ bear traps. Roadhog took that as his cue to round a corner as the skinny junker arced the traps behind him. A chorus of pops and metal on metal sounded as the oversized caltrops did their job. It was music to his ears. It was probably music to Junkrats ears when one of the popped cars swerved into a gas station, triggering a bang that had the psychopath hooting with excitement. Collateral damage was something they both took excitement in causing.

_Two left_

He swerved around a particularly sharp corner that nearly threw Junkrat out of his seat. He filtered out the cursing and ‘warn a bloke next time!’ and grumbled in response, taking in the street before him. He could see a line of cop cars, seven of them, all lined with armed pigs ready to shoot at any given moment. "Roadblock. Take care of it."

"You got it, mate!" He gave a two finger salute and immediately plunged into the sidecar, pulling out his frag launcher. He gave a quizzical look at it and then turned to Hog. "Oi, Roadie, gimme your gun."

"What--No," came his blunt response, eyes still focused on the road. He swatted at the smaller man as he tried to grab at his stomach for it. "We need a mine."

Junkrat giggled nervously. "Yeah, so do I mate. Ran out at the bank. I got a better idea though, an' I just need your gun. Just this once. All i'm gonna do is shoot 'em."

He knew the other man's ideas usually ended up saving their asses, but that was usually. They needed definitely right now. He watched the men at the end of the street line up their guns to fire. With a guttural sigh, he ripped the gun out of his holster and shoved it into the smaller man's hands. "Don't break anything," he growled seriously, "or I'll gut you in your sleep."

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say, mate.” He took the gun, holding it up in tandem with his frag launcher as he poured four of the frags from the launcher to the gun. “OI YA BLOODY PIGS! GET A LOAD A THIS!"

He pulled back and fired all four frags at once, the recoil hitting him harder than he expected as he fell back into the sidecar. Roadhog watched them sail into the blockade, taking out all but one. It did damage, sure, but it didn't move them

He took his gun back with a growl. It'd dawned on him the that fucker probably didn't know to throw something down to get them to jump, but it was far too late. He grabbed at Junkrat's harness and threw his weight to the side, launching the both of them onto the street. The bike swerved and tumbled, rolling towards the blockade at top speed. Roadhog felt a twinge of pain in his chest as he watched the vehicles collide and turn into what was definitely the apex explosion of the chase. A fitting end to a high speed getaway of that magnitude, he thought. It killed the cops at the very least. That's what mattered.

He checked his side, noting that Junkrat was sitting up just fine. Mild abrasions, no bleeding. He, on the other hand, groaned and shoved himself to his feet, the telltale sting of something wet and painful burning his shoulder. He brushed the gravel out of his wounds and grabbed the other man up by his harness, pulling him to face height. Junkrat yelled and struggled in his grip, but he knew hed fucked up.

The smaller man held up his hands before Roadhog could chew him out. He grinned, almost sheepishly. "Uh, We should run?"

He held him at eye level, a threat, and dropped him roughly, turning him around and shoving him forward with the butt of his gun. 'Get your ass moving' the gesture said. Another threat, albeit an empty one. By god, he'd never shoot him but they needed to move, and they needed to move now. Junkrat got the message and immediately started forward. Roadhog was upset because he'd used up all of his landmines. They both knew it.

“Y’can’t get up me for not havin’ what ya need, arsehole.” he muttered as he took point.

Roadhog mourned the carnage left by his bike for all of three seconds before he followed, holstering his gun bitterly. Kid was right, much as he hated to admit it. Didn't mean he wasn't going to be angry about it though. They'd planned the heist for an entire day, mapped out the exit streets, spent the whole day making the amount of mines and grenades that they needed, no more no less. They didn't account for twelve police cars though. At least the majority of the officers were either dead or scared off... For the time being, at least. He glanced over at what remained of their getaway vehicle and gave an irritable sigh.

"Y'know, we can buy a new one." Junkrat offered as he staggered off behind a building. "Hell, we can _make_ a new one. Or we can steal a car, fix it up the way we like an' ride off into the sunset like kings."

Stealing a new getaway vehicle sounded like an idea he could absolutely get on board with. They needed something fast before even more cops showed up. He scanned the empty streets for something they could get away in with... mild success. Some bland economy-class cars, some mini-vans. Nothing he'd fit into, and nothing well-- really worth taking.

Junkrat slapped his side several times with his robotic limb and pointed towards the end of the street. "Oi! What about that one!"

He ushered to a heavy looking truck with slightly larger than average hover-discs at the bottom. It was currently being filled with what looked like furniture. They were probably moving, the idiots. Who the hell would be moving when there was a warrant out for them? They probably just moved into the country. Didn't know any better.

"Sitting ducks." He chuckled and cracked his knuckles as the pair made their way over. One flick of his wrist with his hook had ripped the windshield right off of the car. Son of a bitch taking a power snooze there never saw it coming. With a guttural laugh he blasted the poor guy into gore before pulling the body to the ground, making his way into the truck and seating himself inside. The seat was wet with blood, but he didn't care. He had enough of it running down his shoulder anyway. One shot of Hogdrogen would fix it, after they cleared the city of course. Junkrat took it upon himself to deal with the screaming man hauling out a table in the back.

“G’day cobber!” He said, swinging around and pointing his frag launcher in the unlucky bloke's face. “‘Fraid I’ve got some bad news for you. You’ve been fired. Haha!”

Roadhog watched him let off a grenade right in the sucker’s face, falling back to the car door before it could injure him in the backfire. He kicked what he could out of the back and pulled up the door, settling himself comfortably in the truck bed. With the truck already running Roadhog situated himself inside and floored the gas. Tires squealing, furniture flying, and not a cop in sight, the duo made their getaway, again. This time, once they passed the city limits and barrelled out into the wastes, there was no stopping them. No cops, no civilians, just the two of them.

A moment's peace after a quick and rough heist was exactly what he needed.

Too bad he was with Junkrat.

“See, stole a car an’ we got away just fine!” Junkrat yelled over the sound of the wind, once they got far enough out. “Miss my sidecar a bit, but we c’n always steal another bike and fix it up. Make another big yellow face on the front ta remind the fuzz who the most dangerous cunts in Oz are.”

Roadhog had half a mind to close the window between them. Five seconds of silence after a heist that hectic would have been great. He signed up for the noise, he reminded himself. It came with the territory.

The rat took his silence as an indicator to keep talking. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.” He said into the window. “About fuckin’ up. And the bike. Didn’t think there’d be a whole bloody station after us this time.”

He saw an arm out his peripheral and watched as Junkrat dropped their haul onto the seat. A bag about the size of a softball filled to the brim with diamonds. Not a particularly large haul, but it was small enough to hide in Junkrat's pouch, and expensive enough to get them everything they need for their next run. Whenever that would be. There was no immediate response from the larger man, even as the bag was deposited in the front seat. He was still pissed off about the bike, and the lack of preparation. He wouldn't have been so angry had it not been for the fact he'd suggested they bring more than they needed.

Five minutes out, he spoke.

"Just a bike. You're worth more than a bike."

Junkrat poked his head through the small window dividing them. He could have climbed in if he wanted to. “Yeah yeah, ‘cause I’m ‘priceless’ an’ whatnot, ‘cause a the treasure.” He put his hands behind his head. “Still, not too bad havin’ nice things once in awhile. Stuff we can _really_ call ours. Aside from you and me, of course.”

Another long pause.

 "Who said anything about treasure?" He replied.

"I did. Just now." Junkrat answers. "I mean, that's what you were talkin' about, right?"

Yet another stint of silence followed the question, only to be deflected. "Things are getting dangerous. We can't stick around much longer."

Junkrat nodded. “Right, right. Was thinkin’ about that the other day, an ya’know what I was thinkin?” He watched him through the rearview mirror as he forced himself through the window, train of thought momentarily forgotten as the gigantic tire on his back stopped him. He grunted a curse as he fiddled with the heat-sensitive lock on his bomb vest. It had a pulse detector that would explode if it detected a lack of heartbeat. Junkrat was the only one who could get it off.

“I was thinkin’ we should leave this shitall continent an’ take our crime spree worldwide!” He continued as he climbed in through the back window, sitting himself comfortably in the passenger seat. "Think about it Roadie. England, Paris, Russia. All the fancy places with nice food and rich bogans hoisted up in their penthouses, just waiting to be blown outta their livin’ rooms. We could climb that one big radio tower thing in Japan. I forget what it’s called, but it’s tall and the perfect height for lobbin' a bomb or fifty!"

He thought about it. Taking their crime spree worldwide would be something that even the most notorious of criminals wouldn't even consider. Although, neither of them were necessarily right in the head. The radiation and their lives as Junkers saw to that. Still, with how successful they'd been this past year and how well they usually worked together, they might be able to pull it off. Somehow. Junkrat wasn't stable, but he was a bloody goddamned genius if he ever saw one.

Taking on the world didn't seem so unrealistic when his own brawn and relative common sense was thrown into the mix.

"Gonna be hard to pull off. Sure that's what you want? "

“‘S better than tryin’ ta make a living out here.” The smaller junker folded his arms in front of himself the best he could. “Sydney’s pigs already have our numbers. Practically got divvy vans with our names on ‘em. An I’m not doin that shit we just got out of again. Plus other countries don’t know who we are yet Less cops, foreign booze. Hell, we could go after the crown jewels if we wanted to! An we wouldn’t have ta look at this blasted wasteland for miles anymore." He swept his arm out to gesture to the desert. He didn't have to. They both knew it well enough "No more worryin’ about radiation storms and shitall ta do with any Junker pissants whos’ tryin’ ta kill me…"

"Always gonna be someone after us." Hog countered, relaxing in his seat. He picked up some remorse in Junkrat's tone in that last sentence. Running from bandits and bounty hunters had definitely taken it's toll on the younger man. He wasn't used to the harshness. Wasn't there to fight omnics like Roadhog was. "...so we'll always need to watch our backs. Didn't save you for the treasure. Saved you for you."

“Sure you didn’t save me ‘cause I pay you too?” He asked, leaning his cheek on his prosthetic as he stared out the window. “‘S what I woulda done. I mean, it's what you're supposed to do. 'cause i'm the boss a you an' everythin'"

He snorted, focusing on the road. "Shut up,  _Boss._ "

From his own mouth the word meant nothing, but from Roadhog's mouth it seemed to jar a reaction. He stiffened, turning to the larger junker.

"You've never called me 'Boss' before." he said, squinting. "Not even jokingly."

Hog shrugged and placed both hands on the wheel. Junkrat was in charge for a reason, even if he didn't know what the fuck was going on half the time. "If we're gonna be goin' 'round the world, you need to step up. You're the boss, figured you should be called what you are."

Junkrat's breath caught in his throat and he teetered in his seat, a weird giggle escaping his lips as his leg started thrumming. “Yeah well...well you’re damn bloody well right I am!" he said after a second, voice slightly higher and louder than usual. "And we're gonna become the most ruthless wanted men in the whole bleedin' world, or my name isn't Jamison Fawkes!"

Tires screeched, truck jolted to a halt, and the larger man had to swallow a bellowing laugh as Junkrat (Seatbelt-less) nearly flew through the open windshield. If there was anyone but Roadhog in the car they would have probably chalked the change in his behaviour up to Junkrat's usual nerves, or insanity. Unfortunately, Roadhog was the one in the car.

He picked up on it  _real_ quick.

"What the bloody hell d'you stop for?!" Junkrat chastised him as soon as he righted himself.

He chewed on the inside of his lip. Should he say anything? Bring it out into the open? Watch the Rat suffer?

Hell yes he absolutely should. He couldn't pass this up.

"Something about me calling you 'boss'," he started, emphasizing the word lowly. "got a rise out you. Something you wanna fess up to, _boss_?"

Junkrat swallowed hard and answered too quickly. “Nope! Absolutely nothin’ to fess up about over nothin! I’m gonna check on me tire!” He said, a bit higher than intended as he quickly made to scramble out the back window into the bed of the truck.

Nope. Roadhog wasn't having that. Quick as a whip Hog grabbed the kid by the ankle and chuckled darkly, his voice coming out as a low, predatory growl as he stopped his escape "Door's a quicker way out,  _boss._ "

Junkrat kicked his leg, hoping to jar his partners big hand off of it, to no avail. His voice was quick when he spoke and betrayed absolutely everything. “Oi, don’t ya think there’s more important things ta be doin’ than holdin' me up? Like driving?! So we can leave?!”

He considered, for a hot moment, complying with his tiny, angry companion's demands. Ultimately he decided to try and drag the poor junker out of the car, one hand braced against the doorframe as he opened it to step outside. The smaller man offered little resistance other than a good kick with his prosthetic. Undeterred, hog gave a great heave and hauled the junker through the window as he hit the dashboard with a loud garbled string of curses.

"Fuck!" He threw at him. "Ya tryin ta kill me?!"

His response was to grab the man by the throat as soon as he'd been pulled close enough and pin him to the truck, breathing labored from the struggle.

"Trying to get things straight here, _Jamison_ ," His hold on the other's neck wasn't enough to completely asphyxiate him, but it was however, enough to keep him from running his mouth too much. It had been a pattern, he noticed, in their past several heists. Things would go well, Roadhog would start focusing on their next plan of action, Junkrat would be riding the high of the danger, and then he'd lose attention and become a mess in his sidecar. They were both shameless. He knew it, Rat knew it, and there was nothing to hide from the guy you basically paid to stay at your side 24/7.

He didn't think it had escalated that badly though, and he was good at picking up when Junkrat was getting off on something by now.

"Something tells me," he started his voice low, dangerously so, "that you're seeing me less and less as a bodyguard and more as... something else."

“Tryin ta...keep things professional.” Junkrat choked over his hold. He scrabbled at Roadhog's oversized hand for relief, but found none “Been tryin’.”

"Stop trying," he said bluntly and slowly lowered his hand. "'cause you're fuckin' awful at it. You got something to say, say it."

An awkward pause hung over the two before hog crossed his arms and snorted impatiently. He could see the wheels turning in Junkrat's head. It was hard for him to express anything when he had so much to think about. It was one of his very many flaws as a functional human being, if he was even functional. Junkrat shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. He pulled at his hair with a frustrated noise and turned around to bang his head against the truck, to Roadhog's amusement. 

“Listen, mate.” He turned back around, taking a breath. “I hired you on t’be me bodyguard, yeah? Works great, you ‘n me. You hook ‘em, I cook ‘em, it works. Has since we started. Real professional work. An’ you coulda left at any time or thrown me ta the scrappers in Junkertown, but ya didn’t. Haven’t yet. Appreciate that, really. An y’know, after a while I figured you’d get bored of ol’ Junkrat. Sick a luggin me around an’ stoppin blokes from tryna cut me head off in me sleep. But ya didn’t. Appreciate that too. An you haven’t even asked for more than what you get, which other people might. I think. Never been runnin’ around with anyone long as I have you. So I figured, if you weren’t gonna ask for more of anythin, then I wouldn’t either, yeah?” He shrugged, shifting from his foot to his peg “fifty-fifty’s both ways mate. Tryin’ ta keep things professional. It’s been workin, why fuck it up?”

Professional.

Their entire relationship wasn't necessarily professional. Professional was something that suits usually were, running corporations and having underlings do all their work for them in a neat and orderly fashion while they made profits higher than their current bounty. Killing people and taking whatever they wanted from anyone they wanted wasn't strictly professional. Not anywhere near it. The first time he'd been approached by the lanky junker it was because he got caught in one of his traps and had to sit and watch this nearly seven foot tall kid prattle on about how 'desperate' and 'vulnerable' he was as he flailed his frag launcher in Roadhog's face. It was the first time anyone had one-upped him in a hunt, and the sheer audacity of it all was what made Hog agree to the job in the first place. That among some slight other things.

Needless to say, Roadhog hadn't thought about Junkrat professionally once since they started working together.

"Feeling's mutual," came his own blunt response. "I'm old. You're not. Figured there wasn't anything more to ask for."

There was an awkward silence where there normally wasn't. Things were falling dangerously close to territory they weren't in the right place to venture. Not out here in the open. Not when cops could still be after them.

He gave an irritable huff and grabbed the junker by the shoulder, shaking his head. "Just fucking--forget it. Get back in the truck," he grumbled, shoving the man back towards the open door.

“You think I give a rats arse if you’re old?” He stopped short of the door, turning around to jab his thumb to his own chest. “I’ve probably only got, what, fifteen years ‘cause a this bloody radiation shit? Age doesn’t mean a damn thing when we’re all coughin up poison. And besides..." He reached forward to grab the front of Roadhogs harness, pulling himself closer, almost his full height. He didn’t have the strength to pull Roadhog towards him. Nobody had the strength for that. His grin was wide and as smug as he could make it. Roadhog wanted to punch it. “When did I say you could stop callin' me ‘Boss’?”

He almost laughed, the immediate shift in atmosphere enough to amuse him. The kid was playing a game he wasn't ready to lose. Probably didn't have any experience to speak of. All bark and no bite. Roadhog knew this better than anyone. He considered for a moment, indulging the poor desperate bastard.

Only for a moment though.

"Get in the fucking truck." he grumbled, shoving his massive hand in the other's face and ushering him to the open door.

It took Junkrat a second or two before he came to some kind of conclusion, smiling and clapping his hands together. “Right, of course. Got places ta be and whatnot.” He conceded defeat immediately, which was strange. He rarely if ever backed down from a challenge without having to be forced out of it. He watched the skinny man climb over the driver seat and fix himself in the passengers side with a curious gaze. “I’m serious about the worldwide thing though. Go to the harbor, threaten our way onto a ship, cruise off ta whatever country. We’re wasted in the middle of the sea, mate. Absolutely bloody wasted.”

"Plane's faster," Hog replied plainly as he climbed inside behind the junker, restarting the truck and heading back on their way. "Harder to get to though. Gonna need to go in disguise either way. Take your pick."

“Got a point,” Rat said, kicking his good leg up onto the dashboard. “Dunno how ta fly a plane. Dunno how ta drive a ship neither. Which one’ll blow up less? Boat prob’ly.” He kicked his peg up onto the dash too, lazily. “If we _did_ get on either, we’d have ta steal it halfway through. Don’t think they let bombs on planes though. Got them security checkpoints and shit. Can’t get a bleedin wire past ‘em.”

"'s what hostages are for." he added before they fell into a rare, comfortable silence.

Or, what Junkrat's equivalent of silence was, anyway. Which wasn't silence. He was never silent.

“Planes’d radio to towers ‘n shit if we tried ta take ‘em." He said, slowly picking up speed as he talked. "Cops’d be on us as soon as we landed. Prob’ly blow it up themselves while we’re on it. Risky. Passengers’d be hostages, crew would be hostages. Don’t wanna deal with any ankle biters screamin their lungs out though. No stable transportation at landing either. We could jump. They got parachutes right? Never used a parachute. Can’t get the rip-tire on the plane either. Boat’s risky too, but they got a lotta hulls yeah? One good boom won’t bring the thing down if it’s a fancy one. Big metal cruise dealie with fancy food an’ nice rooms. More people though, if it’s a big one. Probably need a cargo ship. We can threaten the crew an’ sit tight, nice an’ quiet like.  Less chance a cops too, easier getaway when we land. Won’t know where we’re goin’ though. That might be problem. Have ta plan out what country we’d take and make sure nobody radio’s in anythin'. You think they can radio in things like that? I hope they can’t radio in things like that. Won’t be very fun sittin’ in the dark. Could kill all the men though. How many would we have to kill? All of them? Not the captain? Not the captain. We could be the captains, but we don’t know how to drive a boat. Do you know how to drive a bo-”

"Shut. Up." He threatened as he slapped his hand over Junkrat's running mouth. Too many words, too high pitched, too much nonsense. Even if half of what he had to say were serious considerations, he didn't have to do them all out loud. Still, stealing a cargo boat wasn't that bad of an idea, but getting onto one was an issue. Would they hide in a crate? And how long would they have to stay hidden?

Junkrat moved his hand. "Boat then. We're absolutely taking a boat, i've decided. I can't swim though, so if I fall off I'm right fucked. You'd stop me from drownin' though. I can always count on that."

"Only way you'll drown is if I drag you under."

The younger junker giggled nervously and then corrected himself, straightening out as he repositioned his feet on the dashboard. “You wouldn’t drown me. You basically just said you wanted a go with me. Don’t think you’d kill me b’fore that happens. At least, I hope you wouldn’t.”

He snorted. "This comin' from the guy who gets off on bein' called 'Boss'."

Junkrat choked. "Oi, listen. It's pefectly normal ta develop feelins towards somethin' new an' enjoyable. You callin' me boss is new and _very_ enjoyable. And anyways,” He jabbed a finger in Roadhogs direction. “‘S not like you don’t have kinks too, ya walkin blimp. Don’t think I haven’t been payin’ attention neither.”

He rolled his eyes. Of course he has, he thought to himself, exasperated. "That so," he muttered dully. "Name one then."

"Y'like havin' yer belly rubbed." He said, placing one hand on Roadhog's stomach for emphasis. The tank shoved him in response.

"Touch me again and I might change my mind on drowning you, _boss_ "

Junkrat giggled. The word, though used, wasn't enough to get to him. “Oh, two can play at this game, pigface.” He snarled as he leaned over and licked his disgusting, slimy tongue up Roadhog's exposed belly button.

Roadhog's retaliation was to slam on the brakes, throwing Junkrat's head forward into the dashboard as his lower body was catapulted out the windshield. He had evidently not learned from the last time and shot his arm out, gripping Hog's harness like a lifeline to prevent being flung from the truck. It's anti-gravitational drivers whirred in protest as it stopped.

"Fuck. Off." He growled into the junkers amused and shameless face.

"I was joking! Totally joking!" he said as he clung to his bodyguard. "Completely a joke. Haha!"

"Don't you fucking toy around like that while I'm driving, _Jamison Fawkes._ " He grabbed the other roughly by the shoulders and pulled him back into the truck. "Otherwise, you're gonna be waiting to get fucked _for a long, long time. Do I make myself clear?"_

Junkrat quickly righted himself, swallowing hard and putting on his seatbelt. He learned. “Sorry! Sorry. I just, y’know...thought it was-” He stopped halfway through his sentence once hog’s words caught on. The gears were turning furiously in his head, Hog could see it in his eyes. “Right. Yes, sir. Understood, one hundred percent. I’ll be on me best behaviour.”

"You fucking better." He threatened as he restarted the truck one more time. "Shut up. Sit down. Don't touch me while I'm driving."

His response was a two finger salute. "Gotcha."

Roadhog knew he wasn't going to listen, but he grunted anyway. His stunt riled him. Junkrat _had_ been paying attention. He couldn't let anything slip, couldn't let his demeanour crumble over some stupid gross play at attraction.

They'd both admitted to it now. It was out in the open, finally. Junkrat acted on it, but they had to get out of the barren wastes surrounding them. That was their number one priority. As soon as they were back somewhere decent and had a plan, maybe something would happen, but not now. Not when their main mode of transportation (And a good portion of their supplies) had gone up in flames back in New Sydney. It would take several hours to get back to their regular holdout to restock and refuel. Maybe then, but not now. Now they needed stability, and Hog was going to force it if he had to. No sudden explosions, no knocking them off track. They needed to solidify themselves before they went on another spree, and he knew that better than anyone. Junkrat finally settling down for five goddamned minutes was a start.

They were going to take on the world, and it was going to be a long drive.

Roadhog was ready for both.


	2. Boundary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boundary: A line that marks the limits of an area; a dividing line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be some chapters and places in Junkrat's POV, but the story will remain mostly in Roadhog's POV. The first part of this chapter isn't in Junkrat's POV, but he is the one doing all the talking, which is no surprise.
> 
> POV switching gets annoying to me. I figured it would get annoying to you too.
> 
> Edit: 100 KUDOS I AM SCREAMING

"Holey dooley."

It wasn’t the first time Roadhog had found himself in a situation where his reputation could be turned against him. He was warned about the guy. Completely briefed on him and his multitude of explosives by more people than he cared to remember. Tracking him took some time. He needed stealth of some sort, which wasn’t his style. He’d heard stories of people going up against the kid and not coming back.

Idiots.

Idiots who didn’t have his name or experience.

Jamison Fawkes, was the kid's name. Junkrat, they’d called him.

He’d found something in the omnium, they said. Something priceless and valuable that made him the most wanted man in all of Australia. The multiple thwarted attempts to capture him by junkers ‘round the continent only made his price go up, and Roadhog liked money.

Big game, they said. Dangerous they said.

They underestimated his ability to get the job done.

Though, looking back, he probably should have prepared more.

“Oi, yer a big mean lookin’ cunt aren’t ya?”

Gangly, was the first word that came to mind. Malnourished frame with unusual muscle for someone who’d been on the run as long as he had. Small stomach, caved in ribcage, but wide shoulders and abs that made him looked more ripped than he probably was. Zero percent body fat, all muscle density. His exact opposite.

“I think I know you.”

Singed hair, large sharp grin, sunken in eyes that spoke of lack of sleep and effects of radiation poisoning. People’s eyes weren’t usually gold. Or were they orange? He couldn’t tell. The mask blurred the colour some.

“You’re the big bloke they call out for real serious bastards. Roadhog, yeah? Biggest an’ baddest in the outback. ‘The Enforcer’.”

The frag in his hands was clearly handmade. It looked ramshackle at first glance, literally held together by duct tape, but Roadhog knew better. People had been dying to it for months. There’s no way it would fall apart, not when it was made by a genius.

“I can see why.”

He could hook him, grab him in and shoot him with his scrap gun and leave him just alive enough to bring back to the highest bidder. It wouldn’t be that hard. He didn’t look like he’d put up much of a fight. The bombs around him and the trap stuck in his legs would be a problem, but he could handle it. He ususally did.

“Tell ya what.”

He was taller than most, but still smaller than Roadhog. He could break him in half if he wanted to. Probably wrap a hand around his tiny ass waist and squeeze until his internal organs burst and he bled out. Or at the very least dig his thumb in and rupture something. He looked like he’d be fun to hold on to.

“I’ll make a deal with you.”

Genius, they called him. Somehow managing to successfully evade every person that’d been after him for the past year. Has he been wanted for a year? Time was irrelevant when the day and night cycle was so warped. He didn’t keep a watch, or a calendar. The sharp tingling sensation in his leg was starting to bother him.

“You’re the big man on campus, so ta speak, and me? I’m a wild dingo just tryin’ ta survive in a world where other dingo’s want my food.”

It was weird, this kid.

“Granted, I don’t have a lot of food. If I did I reckon I’d look like you! Haha!”

He was half his age at best, but looked older. His age only showed when he made a face. Guess the outback does that to some people.

“Anyway, what was I sayin? Oh yeah.”

He was probably just a kid when the omnium blew up.

“You’re a big nasty bloke and as you can see, i’m utterly defenseless on my own.”

He’d probably be really good looking if he hadn’t been trying to survive like a rabid dog. Lean muscle and a face unplagued by lack of sleep. The arm and leg were mildly distracting, but they fit him. To a T.

“So i’m gonna make you a deal.”

The fact that he was tall already put him in the ‘maybe’ category. It’d been a long time since he’d thought about anyone else in a way that wasn’t ‘murder’. Of course, anyone smaller would probably die on his dick anyway. One person already had, technically. That was a fun day.

“Fifty-fifty. Even spoils and call to my treasure if you join up with me.”

He should be doing his job, not getting lost in his thoughts.

“You keep me from gettin’ killed, and I’ll promise you the adventure of a lifetime. We’ll do whatever the hell we want and kill an’ steal from anyone what crosses us.”

A frag gun in his face, both feet stuck in oversized beartraps, surrounded by mines, a tall, thin, muscular junker with one too many screws loose in all the right places along with the promise of treasure and general free reign?

“Whaddya say, mate. Sound like a plan?”

Who was he to say no.

“I’m gonna take your grunty silence as a yes.”

* * *

 

That had been a solid year ago and that 'maybe' had developed into a 'really?', which developed into a 'fuck'. Roadhog had been hoping that it would further develop into an actual fuck, but until about an hour or two ago he didn't think the younger junker gave a shit.

Now? Now it was hard to ignore it. The line he thought existed had been crossed in a way that told him it didn't even exist in the first place.

It had taken them a while to reach one of their safehouses, sun setting in the distance as they rode up to it. They had them scattered across the outback for just in case emergencies. There was always the risk of someone discovering it and looting through it, but Junkrat's defenses usually kept people out. Or dead. mostly dead.

"Looks deserted." Junkrat observed as they approached. He'd placed bear traps in the sand around it, and in front of the entrances. From what they could see none of them had gone off, but that didn't mean 'safe'.

Hog pulled over to said shack, giving the place a visual look-over before stepping out of the car. "Stay close. Might not be safe."

Rat scoffed. "When have we ever gave a rats arse about 'safe'."

He rolled his eyes under his mask and approached the shack, giving the trap in front and the door swift kicks before pulling his scrap gun. Empty. No signs of life since they'd last been there. Good. "'s safe. Dunno about you, but _I_ started giving a rat's ass about safety when I started giving a rat's ass about you."

“Good thing I’m a rat then, yeah?” Junkrat countered, lugging in his Rip-tire and leaning it against the wall for good measure. No way in hell he was leaving that outside in the truck. It was too recognizable. “Since I’ve got a lot of arse ta be savin’. Which reminds me…”

Roadhog watched him trail right back out of the house, no doubt setting more charges and defenses as they'd be there for the night. He himself really took a minute to take in the shack. There wasn't that much furniture. A couch, a broken lamp with no power source, a table, and the cabinets Junkrat had made last time they were there, under Roadhog's suggestion. He went to check one of the cabinets in the corner. Their 'pantry', for lack of a better word, full of canned food they'd hoarded from their previous run to the city and some stuff from Junkertown they'd kept on instinct. Things that wouldn't expire if they were gone for a month. All edible. There was several bottles of water too, but the radiation exposure had turned the water a yellowish brown. Better than the usual water they had in the outback, but still mildly dangerous. They'd need to restock if they were going on a world tour, but they'd have plenty of water once they'd gotten off of this godforsaken continent.

Roadhog grabbed two of the bottles anyway and chugged one quickly. Before Junkrat could come in and make some smart quip about his mask being partially off. He usually did that.

It took all of fifteen minutes for him to re-enter the shack, apparently satisfied with his work in such a short amount of time. Lack of intruders meant most of the traps were still in place, so he probably didn't have that much to do.

It was good to think ahead sometimes.

"Should be good 'till morning." Junkrat said, plopping himself down at the couch only for Roadhog to throw the water bottle at his head as soon as he landed. He grumbled, but opened it and drank anyway. "I dare a cunt ta get through one a those doors without us knowin' about it.”

Roadhog raised an eyebrow. Junkrat couldn't see it, but he raised it anyway. "Can we get out?"

The smaller man scoffed as he drank, water dribbling down his chin and chest as he feigned offense. "D'ya think i'm that bad at me job? 'Course we can bloody get out. I got back in didn't I?"

Hog grunted and sat down the couch next to him, leaning back against it. It could barely hold both of them, but Junkrat wasn't going to stay in one place long. He rarely did. "If you say so."

It was banter for them at this point. Roadhog knew full well what Junkrat was capable of, yet in the year they'd been together they'd fallen into a comfortable routine of Roadhog questioning and warning him while he faked offense and reassured him that yes, he did do exactly what he was supposed to do. They were both aware of how competent they were together. They jabbed each other for fun.

Roadhog didn't think he'd have that with anyone since the Omnium blew. It was sort of nice.

"So, where d'ya wanna go?"

The question came out of nowhere, but it was a logical one to ask. After the talk of global domination (For lack of a better term), they hadn't exactly figured out a starting point. Junkrat didn't know anything about the outside world. The Outback was his home, his life. Roadhog had lived in Australia his whole life too, sure, but he'd seen the outside world. He existed in a time where the internet worked and you had access to everything in the world. Pictures and videos of places across the globe.

Junkrat hadn't had any of that growing up. It was only logical that he'd ask him where they'd start.

"Japan sounds nice," he said simply.

Junkrat snapped his fingers at him and winked. “Thinkin’ about that tower are you? Gotta say, lobbin' bombs offa that might give me a right boost. Might fire ‘em clear ‘cross the city an watch ‘em explode an’ take things with ‘em. Plus they got this thing called Boba. Saw it on the tele once in a town we raided. Forgot which one. Never tried it, but it looked weird enough ta wanna taste. Port for that’s on the other side a the country though. We’d have ta go north a bit. Still say we should nick a new bike.”

Hog huffed "Car should run just fine for now. We'll get a bike somewhere along the road." 

While he wasn't a fan of the truck, stopping to build a new bike would take up precious time they could use to distance themselves from the city. The fact that they were the most wanted criminals in Oz never quite left his mind. 

“Go to Japan, blow some stuff up, raid some arcades and eat all them noodley foods they’ve got.” Junkrat counted off each thing on his fingers. “We’ll have ta steal another car when we get there. Can’t bring the truck on a ship, no sirree. Probably have ta go on another ship to get to everythin’ else. China and whatnot. Lotta places waitin’ ta be ripped ta shreds by us. Lotta things worth stealin.”

"We'll build a bike before then," he stated plainly and drew his gun. Damn thing had a cog stuck in it _somewhere_ judging from the way it had fired earlier. He wanted to blame it on Junkrat's bomb stunt from earlier, but in all honesty it could be anything. That's what you get for shoveling god knows what into the fucking barrel, he supposed.

They fell into a silence that was almost comfortable. Between his cleaning and Junkrat still coming down off of his adrenaline rush from the job, they were both exhausted. Usually Roadhog loved the silence. Reveled in it when around the fidgety bastard next to him, but it didn't feel right. Silence was dangerous.

He decided to break it.

"When did you know?"

Junkrat clicked his teeth and sat up. "You're talkin' a lot lately. Not like you."

He snorted when the junker commented on his sudden interest in talking and pulled the cog out successfully, tossing it on the ground. He thought to explain his sudden talkative-ness, however, he couldn't really find a rhyme or a reason behind it himself. Just seemed like he had more to say nowadays than ever before. He had a person to say things to.

“Can’t believe I gotta go over this shit.” Rat muttered under his breath before bending over, setting his arms on his knees. He knew exactly what they were supposed to be talking about, for once. He'd been remembering a lot lately. “Y’take care a me. Have since I hired ya. Been takin’ care a me more’n usual lately. Whole bloody outback’s a shithole wasteland an’ I coulda gotten swallowed in it, but I didn’t, an’ that’s cause a you. But there’s more to it, too. ‘Specially in the last few months. Ya stopped treatin’ me like a job an’ started treatin’ me like a person. I think that was when it clicked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The thought that I wouldn’t wanna spend th’ rest a my life without ya. Not just ‘cause you saved me ‘n shit. But ‘cause ya stayed. Means a lot more to me than ya think. As for when I knew I wanted ta shag ya? Moment I met ya. I saw this big bloody demon standin' in fronta me that coulda killed me at any moment an' I thought, 'God if I could die by this bastard, let it be on his cock'. First thing what ran through me mind honestly. 'S why I hired ya in the first place. Mostly. I did need a bodyguard. Still do."

Silent. He was silent for a good half minute as Junkrat expressed his emotions. "Yeah," came his response, at last. "Makes enough sense."

"I like hearin' you talk though." Junkrat said, offhandedly. "Just wish I could hear ya without this thing on." He put two fingers against the larger man's mask and tapped twice.

He raised his hand to swat at it, as he was prone to do whenever anybody had the nerve to reach for his mask, but the offending hand had already retreated, moving behind charred locks to act as a cushion as the younger man leaned back into the couch.

"'s fine on you too. Part of you, yeah?" He added. "'course you'll never take it off where I'd see it, but hey, that's your thing mate. Not gonna burn that bridge."

How long had it been since He had taken off his mask? Not just to eat or drink or shave, but all the way? Years. At least a decade. The firecracker was right, it was a part of him. Roadhog, The Enforcer. His tattoo, his weapons, his accessories. None of them really made him who he was, except for the mask. Behind it he could be ruthless, remorseless. He could kill without consequence or caring, bask in the blood of anyone who dared to cross him as he ripped them limb from limb and watched them bleed out in front of them as they prayed to their god for mercy that never came. It was how he had survived. It was how he had made it this far.

It was how he met Junkrat.

He considered it. He never took the mask off, even when he slept. They'd known each other for a year, they were _eventually_ going to fuck.

Might as well reveal his face now while things were calm and quiet.

He reached back behind him to undo the clasps, an audible gasp sounding from the man behind him as he did so. He brought his hand to the snout of the mask, pulled it off, and sighed in defeat. There was no defeat to sigh over. He gave enough of a shit about the scrapheap beside him. He was doing this of his own volition.

He'd fallen so far.

But seriously, who fucking cares at this point.

Junkrat stared. Well, stared wasn’t really what it was. It was staring, but it was more like marveling. Gazing. Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He probably couldn't. He'd probably forget about this as soon as they'd departed the next morning. Hog watched his brain try to function, clearly working towards saying something to break the tension that sat between them. After a minute or two of silence and marvel he was starting to second guess himself. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

“I wanna smash my face against yours an’ suffocate for the rest of me life.”

Hog had promised himself when he took off his mask in front of the other--should he ever-- that he'd be as serious as he could possibly be. However, that comment broke that promise almost immediately--man cracked the smallest of smiles and sighed. It _sounded_ like an irritated sigh, but it wasn't. "Just blurt out the first fucking thing that comes to mind, don't you?"

"When have I not." He countered. "I am serious though. I could die snoggin' you an' I'd be plenty fine with it. Though, I said I could die on yer cock too. I've got me options."

"Gotta buy me dinner first," Hog teased, a smirk on his face. His expression returned to neutral as he turned his attention back to his gun, turning it this way and that to check for external damage. He could be expressive now. He had been expressive in the year that they'd worked together, but he'd always had the mask on. It was different. He felt like he had to control himself more. "... Not happening tonight though."

"Can I touch it?"

He paused and lowered his gun, giving Junkrat a look.

"Your face, I mean." He corrected. "Dunno when I'm gonna get ta see it again. Which's a shame really 'cause you've got one a the nicer ones i've seen."

Roadhog paused and sighed, bringing a hand up to scratch his neck. "Fuckin--why not. I don't give a shit"

It was like a switch had been flipped. Junkrat had practically climbed his bodyguard in seconds, straddling what he could of him as he stared into his face with eyes as wide as dinner plates. His smile wasn’t the manic smile Hog was usually used to seeing. It was just...happy. And probably a bit better to see without the lenses getting in the way.

“It’s like christmas fuckin’ morning.” He muttered as he carefully (Too carefully. The kind of careful he usually saved for his bombs.) moved his hand up to cup Roadhogs cheek. It was weird, this kind of thing with him. Hog wasn't sure how to take it. 

As aggressive and immediate as Junkrat was, it had been a long ass time since someone had looked at him like that.

“Better than anythin’ I could’ve ever wanted, you.” The smaller man said “Body like a wall an’ a face ta match. Best jackpot I hit in the past damn year if you ask me. Treasure aside.”

Hog snorted and _pretended_ expertly to be interested in cleaning out that jammed gear in his gun, but his traitorous face burned bright red as the junker climbed up on him, muttering sappy shit and all that. It was weird and intimate and new--and Hog wasn't sure if he liked it or not. But Junkrat seemed to be busting a nut over the whole ordeal so he tolerated it at least.

"Ya sure i can't kiss ya? not even a little?" He asked as he leaned against his stomach. he barely made it to his face. Even if Junkrat was tall, all of that height was in his legs. Sitting down he was basically the same size as any regular person, and regular people were always small compared to Hog's sheer mass. 

He knew the minute he caved and let the junker kiss him, he'd be smothered in smooches and kisses and the like. Kid couldn't control himself when it came to impulses. It was one of the more 'exciting' things about him.

"You stick your tongue in my mouth," he muttered as he agreed, flipping his gun shut, "I'm gonna bite it off."

“Hot” He offered before promptly shoving his mouth against Hog’s. It was eager and he was smiling through it, and enthusiastic in a way that almost had his teeth clacking against his, but he stopped it. It was a puppy’s kiss, rough and tumble with too much want and not enough knowledge. The kid probably had no practice kissing anything that didn’t blow up afterwards. It was followed by another, and another. He was all giggles and jitters and had to kneel in his seat on the bigger man’s lap. Anyone else would get murdered for this.

He was shit at kissing though. Absolute shit at it. So, _so_ bad, it actually made Roadhog chuckle a bit. "Take it easy," he muttered, "Don't piss yourself over it, jesus."

He snorted at him. "Well if you're an expert on it, why don't _you_ show me how it's done, ya piker."

Idiot.

"Close your mouth." He put one hand on the other's hip and another on the back of his head before pulling him into a significantly-less-disastrous kiss.

Hog was far... Less experienced than one might think when it came to kissing, but he was better than Junkrat. He knew he could set him off if he showed him up--all without sticking his tongue down the other's throat. Then again, anything could make Junkrat lose it. He could feel a hardening dick through singed camo on his stomach. He almost chuckled.

Sex depraved amateur.

After a minute or two, he pulled away slightly breathless and smirked at the other. "Not an expert, but what'd you think of that, piss stain?"

It looked like he needed another minute to compose himself. "Better than mine. Think I died an' went ta hog heaven." He drawled out as his head slumped into roadhogs less-spiky shoulder. "Get it? Hog heaven? Haha."

He wanted to push him off.

He pushed him off.

"Don't hear you complaining," he chuckled and roughly shoved the junker off of him. "Don't _feel_ you complaining either."

He fell to the floor with a thud, mechanics scraping against the sandy ground. "Well if ya didn't do such a good job at bein bloody attractive I wouldn't be havin' this problem! Which is a recurrin' problem, mind you, and won't be goin' away anytime soon." He shifted his shorts. Not like there was any point in hiding it. "Gonna take half a bleedin hour for this ta go down. Hope you're proud of yerself."

Hog gave a 'hhmph' and grabbed for his mask, clasping it back on. "Sounds like a 'you' problem. Do yourself a favor and rub it out if it's that much of an issue."

“That-” He snapped his fingers again. “-does not sound like a bad idea. Might just make meself comfortable right about…” He plopped down on the couch again, spreading his legs and taking up as much space as he could that didn’t already belong to Roadhog. He moved his metal hand in front of his pants in what was probably supposed to be some kind of sexy display and shifted against it, grunting in the process.

Shameless. Absolutely shameless.

“Be better if it was your hand, t’be honest.” he said, sly grin on his face. “Big enough ta wrap around me an’ grip me like a vice.  _shit_ that’s a hot thought. I can think about this stuff in front of you now, right?”

Hog didn't ask for much in life. A quiet place to crash at night, food in his stomach, and plenty of people that were well-deserving of being murdered. Naturally, none of these things had been satisfied for the night so his response to the fucker's antics was to kick him off the couch and prop his feet up. "Better not get your filthy spunk everywhere," he growled.

Junkrat righted himself immediately, crossing his legs and putting one hand to his chin in an exaggerated semblance of thought “Be an inconvenience, that would. Good point. Don’t got anythin’ else ta change into, since we ain’t near any _real_ base yet.” He stood up, patting his knees as he seemed to come to some sort of decision. “Right. When we get there, then.”

Roadhog gave a content grunt and kicked his feet up on the sofa. He had half a mind to tell the junker he planned on plowing him long before they got to Japan, but then again that was too vague and would lead to a constant headache until the deed was done.

"Have ta get a lotta supplies anyways." He continued, "How long's it take ta get to japan on a boat?"

"Three weeks," Hog replied simply. "If the weather's clear."

He tsk'd and crossed his arms against his chest, shoving his tongue against his cheek in annoyance. " _Fuck_ that's a long time. Whole next week's gonna be preppin' for that then, yeah? Nearly a bloody month in th' middle of the ocean. Hell. Hope I don't get seasick." He giggled. "Or drown, think we already covered that though. Did we?"

"Yeah." Roadhog reached over to undo the armor on his shoulder, carefully sliding it all off and unclasping his harness. "Got a lot to do in a short period of time. Got the night ahead of us too. Make yourself some food and go the fuck to sleep."

Junkrat lit up like a christmas tree. "You're right! I forgot we had food here! Keep forgettin' that. Good idea. I'll make some grub for us then, yeah?"

Hog didn't really answer him as he'd already cleared the house by the time he'd bothered to look over. He sighed.

Japan. Of all places they could have chosen first. Geographically it made sense.There were islands between Australia and Japan, sure, but Japan was the most heavily populated country nearby. They could hit China first, but they'd already decided it seemed. It was a lot to think about. Hog closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head.

He'd think about it in the morning. Right now all he wanted to do was think about how good it felt to have Junkrat on his lap, and how much better it would feel the next time he'd be there.

 


	3. Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog often forgets just how smart Junkrat really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait.

It took less than a week to gather supplies for their trip. As luck would have it, a string of seemingly fate-induced truck robberies peppered their journey north. Most of the trucks held vital equipment that they would need for the agonizing boat ride. Rations, water, first aid supplies, a carton of Hogdrogen clearly meant for the citizens in the inner circle of Junkertown. Roadhog figured if they weren't going back, then everyone behind them could rot in hell. With his bike gone all connections to the outback ceased to exist, and he was free to move on with Junkrat at his side.

Which, honestly, he really needed.

Though, as lucky as they had been, it seemed to run out right before they reached the port town. With only a day's worth of a journey left the truck's power core started to give out. Roadhog felt it the moment the engine stuttered and before they knew it they were stranded in the middle of the road (which was a road and not just sand, for once). As soon as they'd stopped the truck it seemed to trigger the built-in safety mechanism, and the entire thing rumbled before the lights on the hoverdiscs blinked out. Junkrat very narrowly avoided his other leg being crushed before it crashed to the ground.

He clearly wasn't happy about it, if his angry muttering was any indication. He could see a town on the horizon, not even five kilometers further. It wasn't the town they were looking for, but one of the smaller ones surrounding it. He probably didn't know the name of it off the top of his head. Roadhog couldn't be arsed to think of it either. It would be at least an hour and a half walk which, if Hog were honest, wasn't that bad all things considered. He'd done worse journeys on foot, but if they had to haul all of their food and supplies with them it would drag them down, and he knew the smaller man would do nothing but complain the whole time.

Junkrat didn't have Roadhog's patience. He probably never would.

Hog grumbled something incoherent as he opened the roof of the truck to check the engine. Smoke billowed out and clouded his vision.

"Shoulda stole another truck." Junkrat said, kicking the lifeless corpse that was once their ride.

"Shut up." The bigger man wafted away the smoke with one hand. There was a slim chance the engine could be saved. A very slim one. "Make yourself useful."

Instead of arguing Junkrat gave him a two fingered salute, reaching into his side bag and pulling out a leather pouch no bigger than the one with the diamonds in it.

Roadhog was giving him a look, even if he couldn't see it. 

Good thing Junkrat was just as good at picking up his bodyguard's body language as he was at picking up his.

He grinned and shook it "Don't look at me like that Roadie, y'don't even know what they are yet."

He scoffed at him. "Better grab us something to drive."

Rat's manic grin widened in a way that said 'I know something you don't'. Which was accurate. Roadhog had absolutely no idea what was inside that bag, but it better be helpful. He watched the thinner man hobble to the middle of the road and empty the bag out, little silver discs with red buttons on them falling haphazardly across the road. He giggled as he made sure to spread them as far apart as he could, and then proceeded to kick sand over them in an attempt for cover.

Hog should have been paying attention to the truck, but he couldn't stop staring at Junkrat's Rip-tireless back muscles as the thought that he rarely ever got to see them without the tire in the way ran through his mind.

"If those don't grab us a bastard's ride, nothing' will." he said, self assured grin plastered on his face. Whatever those discs were, he was one hundred percent sure they would help them somehow.

Roadhog trusted him, but he'd still berate him if whatever they were didn't work.

Sure enough, in twenty minutes time he could see a faint glint of something metallic on the horizon. The heat radiating off of the asphalt made him think the truck rounding the bend was an illusion, but the way it was speeding towards them was no mirage. Junkrat cackled and held up one of the discs. "They're not bombs, if that's what you're thinking." He said, easing one of his worries.

Even if they didn't work, Roadhog had his hook. He was sure he'd be able to grab a truck with it if he had to. He did it once before.

The discs, however, seemed to do their job. As the truck sped past the little metal circles, several of them flew up from the ground and latched themselves onto the rotors. Hog saw the spark and crackle with electricity before they, too, blinked out. The truck fell to the ground with a loud metal crash, crates in the back bed heavy enough to send it down faster. The sight was impressive as it was terrifying. So help him if Junkrat just permanently ruined their next ride, he'd string him to the back of the next car that drove by and keep him there until they reached the damned town.

"Don't get your pig-covered belly in a twist." He said, clearly anticipating whatever reprimand was about to come his way. "It's temporary. Might wanna kill the bloke drivin' right quick though."

Roadhog wasted no time in lumbering over to the drivers side, grabbing the poor bloke with his hook before he even had a chance to check what damage happened to his vehicle. He gave him all of two seconds to fear for his life before he ended it.

He turned to Junkrat once he knew he was close "How."

The smaller man grinned and snapped his fingers. "Glad you asked mate. Knew you'd be interested. Can't not be when faced with a stroke of genius. These, little beauts-" He said, easily ripping one off of the rotors "Are micro-magnetic EMP's I made for shits and giggles. Didn't think i'd have any reason ta use them, just kinda made them 'cause I could. Metal disc is the magnet, red button's a taser. chuck it at a machine an' it'll stick an' render it bloody useless. Or, well, the parts of it that it touches, anyway. Figured with all the hover-shit cars they use in the cities that it'd be better than a trap. Plus, I don't have no traps. And before you ask no, the truck's not fucked to hell. Just the hoverthings." he said, flipping the disc off to the side.

He wanted to ask him a few things. One being how they were able to stay in the same bag as each other without inadvertently blowing themselves up. The other was just an observation that he didn't blow something to shit for once.

Junkrat picked up on it, as he usually did. "Yer wonderin' why I didn't blow it to smithereens, yeah?" He said.

His inquiry was answered with silence as Roadhog went to grab the rest of their supplies from their other truck. The silence didn't stop Junkrat. 

"Made 'em for scrappin." He said as he watched Hog effortlessly lift all of their shit from the back of the truck. "Thought it'd be easier ta sell parts of machines an' shit if they weren't all destroyed."

Hog grunted, moving the crates to make room for their own stuff. "Will it work?"

Rat nodded. "Sure, soon as I get 'em all off. Probl'y a few stuck under it. Should take a minute."

Hog gave him a minute, inspecting the crates as he went to remove all of the stun-discs. They were big. Probably three feet in all dimensions. They were also heavy, if the noises from the crash were any indications. Metal. Definitely something metal inside.

"Think there's anythin' worth anythin' in those?" Junkrat asked, suddenly beside him. Roadhog could see several of the discs off to the side. He finished fast.

"Don't care." He grunted, walking around to the drivers side. "Gotta get to town. Lay low."

Junkrat nodded. "Right right. I getcha. But, y’know, what if there actually _was_ something important in these. Better yet…”

With absolutely zero warning Junkrat's prosthetic arm had breached the barrier of one of the wooden crates, slicing through it to feel around inside. That is, until he realized that his prosthetic couldn't actually  _feel_ anything. Idiot. Hog watched the realization hit his face as he tried to pull his arm out, no doubt to switch. He also watched his improportioned wrist piece get stuck in the tiny hole he created, effectively trapping the poor moron in the crate. The crate that was no doubt filled with heavy metal whatevers and was definitely too heavy for Junkrat to lift.

“Fuckin-” He gave a quick grunt as he pulled with what was probably all his might to get out, but ended up pulling himself into it, hitting it with his face loudly.

Hog chuckled darkly and watched this dirty man struggle to free himself from the box. He actually considered for half a moment on prying the junker's arm out, but this was _far_ more amusing.

"Need some help there, _boss?_ "

He froze, and turned to him the best of his abilities, glaring at him. "....Oh you fuckin' twatrag." He said as he brought up his peg leg to kick it in a futile attempt to make the hole bigger. "Whatever it is it's bloody fuckin' heavy."

He wasn't getting out without any help, and he probably wasn't going to ask for it. Roadhog was content to watch him struggle as his chuckle turned into a laugh.  _"Really."_ He drawled sarcastically and crossed his arms.

He growled that high-pitched aggravated noise he usually makes when things go belly-up. “Well don’t just stand there, ya heifer. Get me the hell outta this thing!”

The thought of dragging him behind the car that ran through Roadhog's mind earlier resurfaced, but was quickly pushed away. As hilarious as that would be, it would get them nowhere. He wasn't going to let him off so easy, though. He got himself into this mess, he'd get himself out.

"Do it yourself," he grunted as he started to the driver's seat of the truck, "and _maybe,_ if you do, I'll reward you when we get to town."

The prospect of a reward must have jumpstarted Junkrat's brain into hyperdrive, because as soon as the words left Hog's mouth he heard even more wood break behind him. He turned around to watch as Junkrat effortlessly pulled his arm free, having successfully broken the hole bigger with his peg leg. He wiggled his fingers at him with the most shit-eating grin as he leaned against the truck.

“You were saying?”

Of course. Of course a taunt like that would get to him. Junkrat reveled in the promise of reward.

"Maybe." He repeated as he fit himself into the drivers seat.

Junkrat quickly raided the dead body that was still on the ground before hurrying over to the passenger's seat. Bastard wouldn't need any of his things now that he's dead. "Still a promise."

"Doesn't mean _definitely._ " He tossed back and climbed inside. "Gotta get to town first"

The smaller junker shrugged and hopped in the passenger seat. “I’m rippin' open one a those boxes when we get there, though. Figure if somethin' that heavy’s in ‘em they gotta be worth somethin. Hell, we can probably sell ‘em.”

Hog grunted in response and started to dig through the glove box of the car. Nothing of significance. License, registration, and an odd yellow paper that held more chinese writing on it, and some english. The english was what mattered though.

“Saw somethin’ silver in it. The shiny kinda silver, not the beaten up silver. Looked like somethin’ ‘new’.” Junkrat put his arms behind his head as Hog started up the truck. The smaller junker was right about it starting right back up as soon as the discs were removed. One good kick to the engine and it was back up in the air, a respectable distance from the ground. As most hover cars should be. “Hell, if they’re that shiny they might be worth a fortune. Probl’y be able ta just _buy_ our way onto a boat. Though that wouldn’t be as much fun.”

"It'd be smarter," Hog commented as they started driving. "But they might be worth more in the boxes. Here," he grunted and handed Junkrat the piece of paper. On it was a list of machinery parts and supplies as well as the name of a boat and a date for departure.

“The hell is this.” He asked, looking it over. It took him a second to process the words. When it clicked he was grinning ear to ear as he cackled. “Ohhh it’s our lucky day mate!” He handed it back. Something like that was safer with the big guy than it was with him. “Says it ships out tomorrow an’ everythin’. ‘Cept it doesn’t go to japan, it goes ta ‘Beijing’, wherever the hell that is.”

"China," Hog answered plainly. "Might wanna use disguises. Cops still lookin' for us after our last heist." 

His boss made an irritated noise and mumbled something that sounded like ‘hate wearing disguises’, but he settled in anyway, pulling out something from god knows where to tinker with it. Hog drummed his fingers on the wheel of the car as silence filled the air again. He didn't consider it uncomfortable, by any means, but he knew it wouldn't last. Not if Junkrat could help it. Luckily, the drive to the town only took a few minutes, and all of those minutes were relatively quiet, to his relief.

They got there in no time with the truck, the outskirts of the town coming into their vision faster than Hog thought it would. A town like that would have some nice places to eat probably. And sleep. 

Disguises though. Junkrat hated disguises. It’s not like a lot of people didn’t know who they were at first glance around here anyway, but the people in these kinds of towns were from everywhere. He’d have a better chance of not being recognized here than anywhere else in this godforsaken continent, but that didn't mean they could go in without any preparation. And unfortunately since they hadn't stopped at any stable safe houses on their way up, all they had on them was the clothing on their back. None of the truck raids had garnered anything helpful either. They would have to get something while they were in the town. 

"Think they got blokes as tall as me out here?"

Roadhog knew the train of thought that spawned the sentence. Rat was thinking along the same track that he was. Hog instinctively glanced around for the duffel he carried on occasions such as this only-- _it had been on his bike which was now a smoldering piece of garbage in the middle of the street somewhere._

"Even if they did, don't think there's anyone my size out here" He told him. "Gotta buy a set of clothes."

“Right right, buyin’. No stealin. Takes the fun out of it.” He settled, eyeing the town. “They’d recognize you in a bloody heartbeat though. Me too probably.”

He sighed heavily. "Probably be less likely to recognize you without your harness on. You'll have to go in alone," he muttered under his breath and shuffled a bit, trying to rummage through his pockets.

“Could trick a bloke to goin’ in for us.” He offered, giggling. “Shove a mine down ‘is pants an ‘ say ‘you’re gonna buy us shit or i’ll blow your dick off, and your everything else off.”

"No violence," Hog said bluntly. "That's why we're _buying_ clothes."

"Fuck." He clicked his teeth and looked around at the town. There wasn't a lot of people in it, and they didn't get weird glances as they drove through. The people here must be used to weird foreigners coming through. "What size are you again? Actually y'know what, I'll find somethin' that stretches." He offered, nearly leaning out the window.

He grabbed the man by the harness and tugged him back inside as they pulled to a stop at a dollar store. "Triple XL'll work."

"Won't cover up your belly though." Junkrat poked his stomach.

He swatted his hand away. He was right. But Junkrat probably wouldn't remember anyway. "Fuck it. Don't trust you in there by yourself"

Hog reveled in Junkrat's offended face. "Excuse you. I am perfectly fully functional adult who is capable of doing responsible things." He defended.

After lumbering around for the past year saving his skinny ass over and over again, Hog didn't believe him for a damn second. "Last time we stopped at a store you held it up because they were charging you 4 dollars for ice cream. I dragged you away kicking and screaming before the feds arrived."

His voice was raw from speaking so much in a single go. He could hear the misuse in it, but it only served to make Junkrat stare at him as he reached around to unclip his own mask for the second time in just as many days. Hog would handle it. He'd handle it without violence, for once. They couldn't have any fuck ups if they were really going for that boat.

He set the mask down on the space in between them and scowled at the other. "I'll go in. You stay here. Keep your head down, don't cause trouble. Or, you can go in, and I'll shadow you so you don't fuck up."

He was staring too much, just like the night before. Roadhog could see that he was fighting every urge he had to not crack a fat like he did last time he took off his mask. Poor sex depraved twenty-something.

The thinner junker grinned smugly. Regret immediately flooded Roadhog's mind as he watched the gears start turning in the demolitions expert's head. Quick as lightning his face changed from smug to ‘shit i’ve got an idea’. A look that could either only be good or bad. He quickly popped off his harness and then reached down, pulling the mid-pin out from his peg until the joint separated, falling to the floor of the truck. He took off his prosthetic and grinned.

“I’m recognizable ‘cause a me peg, right?” He said, matter-of-factly “won’t be recognized if I just don’t have it, yeah?”

He hissed out an irritable sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, starting to shrug off his own makeshift armor. "You're going to make me carry you aren't you."

His answer was a grin, ear to ear.

"Fucker."

Junkrat have him a double pistol, complete with aggravating tongue clicks "Not yet but eventually, yeah."

He sighed and rolled his eyes as he opened to door to the truck. "Stay."

"What? No! C'mon roadie, I took off me leg for this." he protested. When it was clear that Roadhog had no intentions of stopping, Junkrat pulled the cunt card. "I'm your fucking boss and I order you to carry me in."

He hissed in frustration as he pulled the 'I'm the boss' card and slammed the door to the truck. But instead of lumbering to the entrance of the store, he walked to the passenger side of the truck and basically ripped open the door. He grabbed the man, however, not by his person but by his good ankle and dragged him out of the car.

He screamed as he was hauled from the vehicle, kicking with his stump. Thank god there wasn't a lot of people around, or they'd attract a crowd. “OI! THIS WAS _NOT_ WHAT I HAD IN MIND!”

He held the man upside-down and brought his face eye-level with him and jabbed a finger in his face. "That 'maybe'," he started in a low growl, "is getting _dangerously_ close to a 'fuck no.' And if you wanna fix that, you listen and you listen close."

Junkrat swallowed, attention all on Roadhog. Good.

"Don't touch anything. Don't grab anything off the shelves. Don't make a bloody fucking sound or I'll chain you to my hook and drag you behind the truck until we reach the port."

The look on Junkrat's face wasn't his usual nervousness when Hog yelled at him. It was worse. It was the kind of look that other people gave him. People on the other end of his gun.

It was fear. It was absolute shitfucking fear. Like Junkrat had forgotten exactly why he had hired Roadhog in the first place.

It was because he was terrifying, and for some reason it took until now for it to sink in.

He mumbled when he spoke, clearly not confident in his own voice anymore. “Y’know I...I’ll just...I’ll wait in the truck.”

His expression shifted almost immediately when Junkrat said he'd rather stay in the car. If he'd had his mask on, it'd just seem like he was contemplating things in relative silence--but with it exposed, Hog's expressions were clear as day. The rawness of being able to see his emotions wasn't something Junkrat was used to.

Maybe he went a little too far.

He set the man upright in his arms. "Sorry," he mumbled quietly, avoiding eye contact with the other.

“No, no. You’re fine mate.” He tried to remedy. There was still a harsh air of unease. “Hired ya to keep me outta trouble. You’re doin’ yer job. I’ll just, sit here outta trouble.”

a mumbled 'probly should put my leg back on' was heard before he went limp in his arm.

"I'm doing this to keep you out of trouble." He countered. 

“Well if I’m out here then I won’t be any trouble in the first place, yeah?”

He sighed and scowled a bit in frustration, running his free hand through his hair. "C'mon." Despite protests, he walked towards the dollar store, Junkrat in tow. He crossed his arms in a huff but didn't say anything. He didn't say or do anything the entire time they were in the store. Didn't try to touch anything either. He just sat in his arm and glared at the cashier when he gave the a questioning look. Due to the other man's good behavior, clothes he'd like were purchased as well as a big bag of cheap saltwater taffy. Not only that, but he bought a few items he remembered Junkrat making bombs with so he'd have something to do. He was upsettingly silent throughout the whole thing and was even more so when he was placed back in the car, putting his leg back on with only metal scrapes and the 'click' to lock it in place. Hog fished the plain pink triple xl shirt they'd found and slipped it on. Not bad considering the price. Junkrat was right though. It didn't cover all of his gut.

"Good job," he tossed the candy into the other junker's lap. 

He ignored the compliment, grabbing the pieces out of the bag he knew were for him and immediately setting to tinkering. Hog could only imagine the thoughts running through his head as he worked. 

He knew the junker was gonna have an adverse reaction to his aggression, but that was to be expected. His emotions were raw without the mask, which was new to the both of them. Roadhog was used to others being afraid of him, reveled in it really. But Junkrat? No. He had never been afraid of him. He didn't want him to be afraid of him. Junkrat was never afraid of anything.

Hog would give anything to know what was going on in the smaller man's head. To know that he didn't fuck up.

 

* * *

 

He fucked up. Again.

Junkrat seethed internally as he worked, intent on making something useful.

He couldn’t help it if he was easily excitable about things, that’s who he was. His ideas weren’t always the best, sure, but sometimes they worked. Seeing Roadhog's face though…it was a completely different experience. The anger in his eyes and the rawness of his voice sent shivers down his spine. It had been a long time since he’d been afraid of Roadhog. Months. Not since that one time he got kidnapped on accident and almost died. The big lug saved him in a day’s time. He hadn’t been afraid of him since then, and then it wasn't even fear of him, but fear of what would have happened if he hadn't been there. It was one of the worst situations he'd been in. Everybody else should have been afraid, but not him.

But now, now that he could see it he was terrified. What if he kept fucking up like that? He was too antsy, too much. He couldn’t tone it down, didn’t know how to. Things were always constantly working in his head and it wasn’t his fault if he thought too much.

What would Hog do if he did something stupid? Something more stupid than he usually did? Would he leave him? No he wouldn’t leave him, he’s paying the big guy. And he's pretty sure he gives a shit about him, somehow. Would he even still give a shit about him like that? Emotions were confusing. Thinking was hard. It was easier to do. Work, make, fix, break, blow up, kaboom. No kaboom’s now, but later. Focus on this. The familiarity of the wires in his hands and the metal pieces he knew best. Focus on the familiar. Focus on…focus…

“It’s not gonna work.”

"Gonna have to be more specific," "His bodyguard said after a few seconds of silence.

“Nothin’. Doesn’t matter.” He said. Focus on the familiar. Click, tick, boom. No boom yet. Eventually. Fuck where did he leave his frag launcher. Did he bring it with him? He couldn’t remember. It’s in the back of the truck right? He didn’t leave it behind? He left his riptire behind though, right? Fuck why couldn’t he remember. He clenched his right hand in a mimic to his launcher, trying to remember what he did with it. Breathe. Put your harness back on. You still have those. Don’t think about being unprepared. Don’t think about it. Careful. Make sure the sensor is on. There. Good. Familiar. The weight on his shoulders helped ease him, some. Roadhog hadn't put his armor back on yet. Junkrat glanced at it as he finished something. Another zap-disc. Just in case.

It wasn't helping though. He didn't realize his breaths getting frantic, his head working overtime. All the worst case scenarios playing over and over again and he couldn't stop thinking about them-

"Breathe."

The word pulled him out of his thoughts as he inhaled sharply, like he hadn't been. He probably hadn't been. He realized that they were in a hotel parking lot, parked safely next to the building.

"You're gonna hurt yourself with that much thinking, rat."

It was odd, how calm his voice was and how well his expression matched his tone. Junkrat also realized that Roadhog hadn't put his mask back on. He didn't put anything back on. Why didn't he put anything back on.

"We'll get more supplies for bombs later, promise."

“Still not gonna work.” He said. What wasn’t going to work. Them? Him? Him. He wasn’t going to work. He was barely working as is, and that was pushing it. Usually he bounced back from something like this, always did. Whenever roadhog scolded him or threatened him he’d shrug it off, go back to business as usual and forget the whole thing even happened. Joke around and prod fun at him, chuck a bomb or two into the air.

He couldn’t do that here. No bombs, no jokes. Best behaviour be damned he couldn’t do anything until they got on or off that stupid bloody fucking boat that was his idea in the first place. Worldwide crime spree, yeah right. How the fuck were they going to do anything worldwide when he couldn’t keep his shit in his damn pants for five seconds and he could _see_ everything that Hog was thinking, saying, feeling. The anger that ripped out of him was worse than the other times. Why was it worse.

His eyes. Junkrat never saw his eyes when he got mad. He always wanted too, see the exasperated expressions he would make if he did something stupid. After that first time it was the only thing he wanted, but not like this.

It was different and it hurt and he didn’t know why, and it infuriated him.

Roadhog rolled his shoulder as he opened the door. He still didn't put any of his armor on. "Gonna get us a room."

"Right. Yeah." Junkrat said, acknowledging him. In reality he was a million miles away, trying his best not to get permanently lost in the riptide of thought and emotions that was threatening to swallow him whole.

He didn't usually get like this. He couldn't afford to get like this, not when they were so close.

He'd keep his shit together though. He'd fight everything he had until they were safely on the other side of the world, ripped and raring to bring mayhem to places that didn't know them yet.

He stepped out of the car and steeled himself. He'd get through this. He had to.

He wasn't going to let his own shitty thoughts consume him. He couldn't afford to lose it now.

They still had a world to conquer.

If he could get through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be smut in the next chapter I promise.


	4. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the flames that often consumed him. The flames that he himself caused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely floored that I have 200 kudos on this story. Completely and utterly flabbergasted. I'm going to do my best to make you all proud.
> 
> I promised smut and I have delivered smut. 6.5 thousand words of it. All for you guys. And me.
> 
> This story is still fueled by McHanzo spite.

It was dingy. All places were dingy, but it had a solid looking bed and looked cleaner than most of the places he was used to so it was okay. And they had to do this. Had to if they wanted to go worldwide. He could do it, he knew he could. He was smart and dangerous enough to devastate the entire continent of Australia, even without Roadhogs help. If they both took on other countries, hell, _all_ the countries, they’d be unstoppable. Blowing up omnics and stealing whatever they damn well pleased in whatever city they decided to that day, it sounded like a dream. Like the best thing they could have possibly done for themselves. Getting out of that shitting outback and into a world where the air was clean and he didn’t have to wonder about sandstorms blowing in and murdering him in his sleep. Didn’t have to worry about Junkers running into his traps or even setting them half the time. Would probably be _safe_. Not like he wasn’t already safe. Next to Roadhog was the safest place he could be at all times.

He thought they were doing great. They always did great. They _worked_. He just wanted them to work more and he was fucking everything up. And Roadie, he wasn’t helping. It was too much. Too raw without the mask, but he liked the mask off. He had to fix it somehow. Had to make things go back to normal before the stress killed him, before the thinking ruined him. He had to stop _thinking_.

“Y’know. You c’n put your mask back on anytime.” He said, sitting down on the bed and lying back on it. It was big enough, but one of them would probably have to sleep on the floor. Probably him. He’d be okay with it. “Won’t have ta worry about it in here.”

He wanted to remedy the situation, but it sounded more aggravated and pained than a suggestion. Did he want Roadhog to put his mask back on? Hell no. It took him a year to get the guy to take it off for fuck’s sake. But if putting it back on will make things better, then he would suggest it. He couldn’t take seeing the anger again. Couldn't look directly in his eyes yet.

And god he wanted to see his eyes again, like the night before. He wanted this to work, but he couldn't get the face of rage out of his head.

Usually he wouldn't care. Shouldn't care. But this was Roadhog, and he cared about Roadhog.

The larger man shrugged and dropped what little supplies and belongings they had to one designated part of the room, but not so carelessly that he'd set any of the bombs off. His other hand held his mask, which he partially slipped on, slight grin on his otherwise covered face, "Sure thing, Boss."

That did it somehow. The teasing suggestiveness in the words mixed with Junkrat's conflicted and riled up state. It was a terrible combination, really. He should have seen it coming.

“Y’know what, FUCK YOU.” He yelled at him once it was on. He couldn’t see his expression. He didn’t care. “Where the bloody fuck d’you get off, one minute grabbin’ me an’ glarin’ at me like i’m the next on yer hit list an’ the next pokin’ fun at somethin’ about me I ain’t even come ta terms with yet! You fuckin’ cockfaced shitgibbon! No! Fuck this! It ain’t gonna work!” He said, kicking the bed in his rage. “An’ you think you c’n just turn it around on me like you’ve got all the smart ideas. I try somethin for a laugh an i’ve got a deathwish but _you_ try somethin’ an’ it’s supposed ta be okay?! Funny even?! That’s not how this bloody fuckin’ works you wank! I have an idea, you listen. That’s what a _boss_ does. An’ the next time you fuckin’ pull that shit on me I’ll take me entire harness and shove it down yer bloody pants so hard that _you’ll_ be the one pissin’ himself ya bloated fuckstick!”

He was angry, sure, but there were tears on the edge of his eyes. He wouldn’t admit to it, but they were there.

They'd been good for a year and then in a matter of an hour, after some stupid stunt that could have happened ten thousand times in the time they'd worked together, things inside him were falling apart.

Was it because things were different now? Were things supposed to be different? All they said was that they gave a shit about each other, as more than just a job. It shouldn't have gotten to him as much as it did. He should have just shrugged it off, gone on with life and forgotten about it just like he'd done countless times before.

But he couldn't, and he didn't know why, and he couldn't stand it.

The outburst seemed to catch Hog off guard. Or, well, he guessed. With his mask nearly back on all he could see was his lips (That he wished he could snog again honestly, even in the middle of his rant) and the thin frown they made as a reaction. He probably thought things had been resolved, but that obviously wasn't the case. He was used to being insulted by Junkrat, but not seriously insulted. He hadn't had a breakdown like that since they first started working together. 

Instead of trying to remedy the situation Roadhog stood up, pulled something out of his pocket, and tore it up before walking outside. "I'll sleep in the truck," he said bitterly, kicking the door shut.

He didn’t expect him to leave. He expected a fight, prepared for it even. He had wanted tensions to run high so that they would have both aired their problems and made it easier to work with. Things came out that way, they usually did. Fighting solved everything. It always had. This was wrong. He fucked up. _Again_. He screamed and kicked one of the smaller side tables with his peg, upturning it as the aesthetic picture frame flew off and broke against the opposite wall with a crash. He’d have to pay for that. Whatever. He could pay for whatever he bloody well pleased and replace half the hotel if he wanted to. Anything could be replaced with the amount of money he had.

Except Roadhog.

Nothing could replace Roadhog and if he lost him because of a shit misunderstanding and high tensions then he’d……

He didn’t know what he would do, but he wouldn’t be alive for very long. He wouldn’t kill himself, but somebody else would, no doubt. 

He wanted to go after him. Should he go after him? He couldn’t lose him. Not over something this stupid. That _he did_. He was alway at fault for these things. He had to say something, had to apologize. He couldn’t have the best thing in his life be ruined by his own stupidity. 

He had to fix this. He had to fix it now.

 

* * *

 

Fuck.

_Fuck how could he so dumb._

Of course all that bedroom talk earlier....that was just honest-to god bullshit wasn't it? Kid didn't give a fuck about him, just cared about keeping his own ass safe. Sure Hog's mind didn't run a million miles a minute like Junkrat's, but it sure as hell centered in on one thing wrong when he did do wrong. He should've never shown the kid his face. That's what started this fucking shitshow in the first place. 

It was a mistake to bring things out in the open. It was a mistake to show him his face. The entire week had been nothing but one giant disaster culminating in...this. Would they get over it like they always did? Would they wake up tomorrow renewed, with Junkrat having forgotten the argument? Was this something he'd forget? He hoped he did. Things were better when neither of them had admitted to caring about the other.

Or were they? Were they better? Hog had something he could admit to caring about now. Something to fight for after he'd taken on his mantle. Someone to fight for.

Was it better now? Now that he had a reason to keep fighting?

Of course it was, he told himself. It was worth every single bullet hole.

But if they were going to go on like this, it wouldn't be.

He'd scarcely climbed into the bed of the truck before the younger Junker came sprinting out in a panic, clearly caught up in whatever he'd managed to rile himself up about. 

It was the yelling. He'd freaked out at his own behaviour and came after him. 

Of course he did.

"The hell do you want," he snapped bitterly, thankful his mask was obscuring his face this time.

“I” He started, mildly recoiling at his tone. He never did that before. “Fuck, mate I just…..I can’t….Roadie get back inside. We need to talk.”

"came out here so we wouldn't start shit. Don't want it hanging over my head while we're--" he gestured with his hands, "Y'know."

Junkrat ran his hand through the remains of his charred hair. "I know, just....please?"

He sighed heavily and slid off the bed of the truck. Couldn't say no to him when he was asking politely and all that jazz. He didn't say much of anything, but he _did_ start back to the hotel room.

Junkrat waited until they were both inside, door closed and locked so no outside parties could fuck with them. He clearly wasn't letting either of them leave until they'd fixed this accidental rut between them. 

“Fuck.” He started, hands on his hips in aggravation. “Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck, shit, fuck. Why is it so hard to say shit?!”

Hog waited. Junkrat was good at thinking, not good at relaying. He'd wait for him.

"I fucked up, mate."

"Not really," Hog said with a shrug. "You were being a pissant, 's nothing new."

He shook his head. “No, no, no. Well yeah, but no. I mean…take your bloody mask off.”

Take it off, leave it on. Hog's own irritation increased as he took off his mask and dropped it, albeit a bit harshly, behind the bed. He had a bit of a scowl on his face, but it was more grouchy than outlandishly enraged like earlier.

"There, happy?"

"Little bit, yeah." he admits, taking a step forward. At least he wasn’t pissed. “Listen, okay. Okay. I think things’re fuckin’ up ‘cause we ain’t communicatin’ an’ we’re on different pages. I think. An’ first of all i’m sorry for pissin’ you off. I was shittin’ around and….well…." He was shitting around and if looks could kill he’d be dead. He shook his head. “I meant it when I said I didn’t wanna spend the rest a me life without you in it. Not just ‘cause a the deal we got goin’ on, but ‘cause a more than that. I know you get angry, always get angry. Mostly at me, which is stupid really ‘cause I don’t deserve it. Knew you were a scary bloke minute I hired ya. Just…I don’t wanna fuck this up. This thing with you an’ me. Now that we’ve established that there is, in fact, _a thing_ that’s more than just a professional relationship, an’ i’ve been fuckin’ it up, an’ i’m sorry.”

"You didn't fuck up," Hog said, rolling his eyes. "I got pissed off and lashed out, it was just...more raw. Didn't have my mask on. Just 'cause I get pissed doesn't mean I don't care about you."

He watched Junkrat relax, shoulders dropping some as his words helped calm the smaller man. He really was worked up about this, wasn't he? Poor dumb kid.

He walked up to him and put one of his hands on his shoulder. It completely encompassed his upper arm "You're one of the best things to come out of the crisis. The only good thing to come out it honestly. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." For once, Hog tried to do something non-aggressive and wrapped his massive arms around the other. It was brief, but still, an embrace nonetheless.

_He'd never hear the end of it but whatever._

He tensed up at first, clearly not used to any physical contact that wasn't inherently dangerous. You had to be alert at all times in the wastes. Only time somebody touched you was to kill you, or to snog you, in Junkrat's case earlier. He slowly gave into it, trying and failing to wrap his arms back around him as he grinned his smuggest grin. Fucker was just so _big_ “Big high an’ hard Enforcer Roadhog, bleedin’ his heart dry for me. Guess that makes me the luckiest guy in oz. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you was goin’ soft.”

Hog sighed and gave the Junker a rough, but playful shove out of his arms. "Don't get used to it." With the junker out of his arms (for the time being, thank christ), he lumbered over to the bed and plopped down on it. It'd been a long day--even longer couple of weeks. "Haven't left Oz in almost twenty years. Gonna be nice."

Junkrat mirrors him, plopping down and spreading out on the bed, good leg hooked over Roadhog’s knee lazily. “No radiation, no junkers. Probly got better explosives out there too. Lotsa possibilities. Less cops. Maybe. Less cops that know what we can do an’ prepared for us. Better scores more than likely. Bigger cities ta blow up too. I’m gettin excited just thinkin’ about it!”

"Glad to hear it," he said dully, lazily wrapping an arm around the junker. He had to be honest--Junkrat wasn't the first person to come to mind when he'd heard the rumors about someone finding some great treasure of Australia or some bullshit like that. Despite that, he was gland it was Junkrat. Even if he was a fucking lunatic who couldn't keep his hands off of anything dangerous for five minutes.

“And you’ll get yours too.” He said, leaning into his arm and gesturing with his hand “I know I call the shots here, but fifty-fifty’s what it is mate. Once we get offa this blasted continent an’ get out inta the world, I’m givin’ you half a the heist power Hoggie. We’ll switch on an’ off an’ do whatever the hell we damn well please. And, that includes times like these.” He said, sitting up and throwing his leg over Roadhogs waist, straddling him. He leaned forward on his stomach, casually running his good hand along it. “Y’know, I really do like ya better without your mask on. But don’t do it too often. If other people see ya too much it means It’s less important when I see ya. Actually y’know what, don’t take off your mask in front of other blokes. Just me.”

Hog gave a small 'hmph' and rolled his eyes as the other started to get possessive and the like. "I'll do what I want." He said with the tiniest hint of a smirk. He placed a massive hand on the other carefully and mulled the current situation over.

Just like that it was fixed. In an instant.

Thank god, because if the air was going to be tense when they fucked then neither of them would want to do it again.

Wait no, that's a lie. Roadhog would absolutely want to do it again. Junkrat would too, probably.

They both would, the filthy heathens.

He smirked back, bringing up his hand to poke at Roadhog’s cheek. “The hell you will. That’s an order Hoggie. Mask off in private, ‘cause then I can do this.”

He leaned up and kissed him. It wasn’t as sloppy as the first time he did it. It still wasn’t great. He’s trying though, god help him he’s trying. Hog had to give him a props for that in the very least. He gave a soft chuckle and cupped the other's head, deepening the kiss. It was slow, steady, quieted the room even. 

“Meant it when I said I could suffocate” Junkrat muttered into the kiss. “Crikey you’re perfect. How did I luck out with you?”

"Should be askin' you that," Hog muttered in return. "Goddamn angel of death." He smirked and pulled away before pushing the other off of him--okay, well, more like _off the bed_. "Looks like that 'maybe' turned out to be a promise after all."

Junkrat hit the ground with an ‘oof’, immediately scrambling up to stand. He smiled. “Knew that it would. Couldn’t resist my _devilish charms_ , could ya Roadie.” He said, gesturing to his already half-naked self with a shit eating grin.

He snorted and rolled eyes, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Devil? Yes. Charms? No." Devilishly charming like an irradiated dingo, Hog thought. He was eager to stop talking and start acting. He held up a hand and barely twitched his fingers towards himself, beckoning the younger Junker over.Junkrat all but jumped on him at the invitation, straddling his long legs over Hog’s lap and wrapping one around his neck and running his other hand gently up and down his stomach with a grin.

“‘M gonna make you eat those words, mate.” He threatened as his good hand circled Hog’s belly button.

Roadhog snorted and rolled his eyes at the other's enthusiasm, giving an irritated expression at the other's threat. His traitorous face and neck burned bright red at the Junker's touch. He grumbled and gave a vague attempt at shoving the other off again. Junkrat held on, undeterred, and moved his head down to run his tongue along the sides of his belly button. He bent enough until he could tongue just above it and trailed a slow line up. He probably thought he was being provocative. Hog gave sort of a guttural snort that was something in between a grunt and a laugh.

"First time?" He said, a bit of a laughter in his tone. He slid his hand down the other's back and in a surprisingly fluid motion, rolled the other onto his back. He wouldn't admit it, but Junkrat sort of knew what he was doing. His stomach was sensitive, and it was slightly provocative. 

Junkrat stuttered at the accusation "I-" He was cut off by the roll, but the position change wouldn't have stopped him. Barely anything stopped his mouth "Piss off, alright."

Best thing to stop rat's mouth was Hog's own mouth. He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against the other's, his hands pressing and kneading their way up and down Junkrat's sides. "'s alright," he breathed into the kiss, running his hands over his ribs, flitting over them with light touches, "Won't break you too much the first time."

He wiggled and fidgeted. He wasn’t used to being touched like this, all gentle like. Hog had a plan, and gentle was the gist of it. Give the kid something he wasn't used to, he'd want it in spades.

“‘Course ya won’t. Yer a bloody teddy under all that.” he said, squirming under the light touches. 

Hog pulled away from the kiss and looked down at the other, a hint of irritation in his expression. He only let it rest for a moment before moving his head to the other's neck and whispering in a low growl, _"Next time I plan on splitting you in two, Jamison."_ His hands stopped at the other's pants and he slipped his fingers underneath the waistline of them, slowly, slowly working them down. The rough threat combined with the light touches, Junkrat nearly choked on his own moan. He was probably drooling. No, he was definitely drooling. Roadhog grinned in satisfaction. That was what he was used to. In this kind of setting, it was probably exactly what he wanted to hear. Rough and tumble, threats and hard touches.

Too bad, Rat.

He had enough of his brain to undo his own belt buckle shakily, hastily, so that Hog could slip his fingers lower. He giggled and gripped the bed with his metal hand anxiously “W-wouldn’t wanna be wrecked by anyone else, mate.”

Hog made short work of the pants, once the belt had been discarded, and tossed them aside. For someone known to be so violent, to enjoy inflicting pain and misery upon others, he handled the boy gingerly, carefully. He let the other savor the moment as he trailed his hands down, down the junker's legs, his thighs. "Almost," he breathed quietly as his fingers ghosted against the other's dick, "a shame that you'll have to wait on that."

He shivered at the touch, dick almost at full attention already as he squirmed. He tried to push his hips up into Hog’s hand and put both his hands on the band of Roadhog’s pants, just to hold onto something. He was a mess, and hog was treating him like he was made of glass. He was probably conflicted. Good. Words couldn't describe how deliciously satisfying that for once, he was the one starting to aggravate the other with featherlight touches and soft, gentle movements. Words were cheap, actions meant everything. At least--for the moment it did. Three fingers looped around the other's hardened cock and gave it a few long, firm strokes. So gentle, _so uncharacteristically gentle_ of hog.

He gripped Hog’s pants like a lifeline and trembled. “‘M gonna bloody fuckin’ _die_ mate.”

Figuring the younger had held out long enough, hog wrapped the rest of his hand around the junker's cock and stroked it firmly, going a bit faster but still _too slow_ for Junkrat. "Stuff it" he growled at the other and pinned him down by the neck. Now _there_ was some rough around the edges. Roughness that Junkrat grinned at as he bucked up into his hand.  He couldn't do much, Hog wouldn't let him. He knew Junkrat better than anyone and he was torturing him on purpose.

Junkrat, being inexperienced and completely unaware of Hog's plan to destroy him, opened his mouth. “That all you’ve got, mate? ‘S like you’re not even tryin’!”

Hog tightened his grip around the other's throat and stopped stroking Junkrat's cock. Little shit wasn't gonna ruin his fun. Not on his watch. He smirked dangerously and laughed darkly, digging what little nails he had into Junkrat's dick. _"_ I can leave you like this." He threatened "Hold out on you well until we're on dry land again. All it'll take is one more little _goddamn smart remark_."

He gasped, struggled, face red out of need and frustration. “Y’always did get off on torture." He shot back, grin still in place "Sadist."

He wanted this. He’d wanted this for months. He knew Roadhog wanted it too. He wouldn’t just leave him.

Wouldn't leave him--more like as soon as the little shit stopped talking hog metaphorically shrugged and shoved off the younger man. He'd warned him, he'd made a smart remark, he was gonna hold out on Rat until he either apologized, or got on his hands and knees to _beg_ to be fucked. "Warned you," was all he said as he slid himself off the bed, unamused.

“Oi!” he groaned at the loss of contact and sat up immediately, grabbing Roadhog’s arm. “Fuck, didn’t think you were serious. It wasn’t a smart remark, it was just….bloody….banter! Thought we was banterin’, you a’n me. Y’just...I talk. It’s what I do. You knew that gettin’ inta this. Ya can’t hold it against me if I’m runnin’ my mouth ‘cause I can’t think straight with yer hand on me dick.”

 Dammit. The fucker was right--he just ran his mouth off without even realizing it sometimes. It wasn't like what he saying wasn't true--Hog did get off somewhat to causing others pain, to torture. "Hmph," he said plainly and turned back to the other. Instead of trying to ease back into things, the man grabbed Junkrat's cock and started to roughly stroke it, a ghost of a smile playing on the corners of his lips. "Then maybe I oughta find a better use for that mouth of yours."

The sudden grip made him nearly choke as he inhaled and tightened his hold on Hog’s arm. Welp. There went gentle. He moved his hands to Hog's pants, pushing down playfully. “I’d love ta see you try, mate.”

His free hand swatted the junker away from his pants, his pumps slowing to a crawl as he did. "Not gonna get it that easy. I wanna hear you beg for it first... Until then," he mulled, flicking his thumb against the other's tip, "I'm content with this."

“B-beg he says, haha.” He rutted into Roadhog’s hand. Again with the slow. “Y’want me ta beg? For what? Your cock in my mouth? My arse? Y’got options mate, I gotta know what i’m workin’ with.”

Roadhog didn't give him an answer, though the urge to growl 'I don't fucking know, whatever you want' crawled up his throat and threatened to be voiced. Instead, he stopped his stroking completely, seemingly threatening to let go of the other's cock.

Rat shuddered and jerked at the lack of movement, throwing his head back against the mattress as he tried to get Hog to keep moving. “F-fuck, Hog, don’t do this t’me, mate. I can’t-nrgh.” He tried to thrust up to no avail, Hog’s hand was just loose enough on his dick to prevent any real friction. “Y’want beggin? How’s this. I want your cock so deep inside me I can feel it through me stomach. I want ya ta wrap me in yer hands an’ leave bruises that ain’t comin out ‘till we hit shore again. Wanna let loose on ya an’ leave bite marks everywhere an’ show ev’ryone who looks at ya that they can’t bloody have ya, ‘cause you’re mine, an you wanna do the same damn thing an you wouldn’t have it any other way an’ you know it.”

Hog gave a grin. An awful, disgusting, shit-eating grin. One massive hand wrapped itself around the boy's neck, the other abandoned it's place around Junkrat's cock and fished out his own. 9 inches long, 3 inches thick _easy_ , and had a ring piercing right on the tip. _"I'm gonna make you squeal, rat,"_ he said with a dark chuckle and applied pressure on the boy's neck.

He swore Junkrat's mouth all but watered at the sight of his dick. "'s not gonna fit." He barely choked out. He was right, it wouldn't. Not without the right preparation anyway, but there's no way they were getting to that tonight. Junkrat was a virgin, by all accounts probably. There was no way he was getting that in his ass without help.

Good thing Hog swiped some lube at the convenience store. It still wouldn't be enough to get his dick in him, but they'd start smaller.

He pulled the bottle of lotion out of his pants pocket, clearly anticipating needing it for the night, and loosened his grip just enough for Junkrat to speak coherently. "How much sex have you had."

Junkrat snorted. "Mate, lookit me. Y'think I had time ta wank off with blokes tryin ev'ry which way ta kill me out here?"

Roadhog scoffed at him, removing his hand from his neck to untwist the bottle from that stupid position they always seem to be stuck in when you buy them. Kid had a point. "Never taken it up the ass?"

"Not on my bloody life I haven't." He scowled, slightly. "For you I would. Absolutely definitely would. That's not gonna fit though." he nodded to Hog's cock. "Know I said I wanted to die on yer dick but I didn't mean literally."

"We'll work up to it." He squirted some into his hand, rubbing his fingers together as his other hand tucked himself back in. There was no way they were getting to that any time soon. "Get you a plug."

Junkrat raised an eyebrow. "The fuck is a 'plug'?"

Roadhog rolled his eyes and moved his hand to Rat's chest, holding him down. "Worry about it next time."

Roadhog didn't register whatever mutter Junkrat had after that, as he was too busy trying to get back into his own groove. Slow and steady, simple, easy. He moved his thumb in circles in an attempt to relax the muscles around his ass. The bony excuse for an ass that Junkrat had. The ass that he'd wanted to plow since he met him. His hands were bigger than any normal sized human's hands so he'd have to really work him up. Start with one finger, move to two, possibly three, and then the whole hog. Probably take him about a month, if he played his cards right. Hog smirked at the thought. They'd be stuck on a boat for three weeks anyway. God knows this is exactly what they'll be doing.

"Fairly certain yer fingers an yer cock are the same size." He managed to pick out from Junkrat's noises. The smaller man tried to sit up, to watch, but Hog's other hand held him down firm. He wasn't going to let him do anything other than sit there and take it. Junkrat, as always, was not on the same page when it came to speed or ideals, and quickly made a reach for Hog's pants, successfully wrapping his good hand around his own dick in his attempt at retaliation. "Now, why'd ya have ta go an' put yerself away Roadie. Y'really know how ta frustrate a bloke."

He scowled and scooped up the man's arms, holding them above his head. Nope. _"You're_  frustrated? Try being the guy who waited months to fuck you."

Junkrat giggled and squirmed, not even considering getting out of that grip. "Ooooooh, I think I like this side a ya, the talky aggravated side. C'mon then, get filthy _Hoggy_. Tell yer boss how ya wanna wreck him inta next week."

"No." he said irritably and leaned down to the other's neck. He kissed it lightly a few times, but on the fourth or fifth one he bit down and started to suck, hard. He knew how much it would take to leave serious welts, large red marks that wouldn't go away for days. His free hand moved from his ass to his dick and started to give a few quick, firm pumps as he worked on bruising the shit out of Junkrat's neck. He'd leave his own marks. Marks that Rat can scoff off to passersby as bruises from heists (not like many would believe him, if they knew what hickeys looked like). Junkrat moaned into it, craning his neck so he could get as much of it as possible. He'd come out of this bruised to hell and back and be grinning about it. Jamison Fawkes, Property Of Roadhog. He squirmed in Hog's grip as he thrusted up into his hand, metal peg trying to find purchase with the ground for support and failing miserably. He mumbled out something a slurred high pitched 'can't wait ta leave shit on you' in his struggle. He bit one spot before moving from place to place, effectively marking him as his own. This was _his_ rat and the world was gonna know it.

He was so caught up in leaving his teeth marks on Junkrat's body that he almost didn't catch the junker's frantic squirming. Combined with the quick thrusting and wanton moans and grunts, he knew he was close.

"Hoggy, c'mon, faster mate." He begged, more than likely suffering under all the attention he'd never gotten from anyone before. He was shaking, unlike his usual fidgets. Hog smirked as he watched Junkrat's face scrunch up in a pleasure he'd only seen very few times in the middle of explosions he'd set off. Now Hog was the one setting off an explosion, an explosion called Junkrat.

And then, all at once, he wasn't.

He stopped moving his hand, the pained moan from Junkrat the most delicious sound he'd ever heard in his life. He grinned as Rat fixed him with a glare that could kill anyone weaker, but had zero effect on him as it was complimented with a bright red blush across his face.

"What the FUCK?!" He tried to thrust his hips up and got nowhere. Roadhog chuckled.

"Said I was gonna work you up." He said, moving his hand from his dick to his ass, still properly lubricated. "Can't have you goin' off before I'm ready. Gotta make you squeal first."

Junkrat struggled to try to get his arms out of Roadhog's grasp. It did nothing. "This whole thing's-Gnnnh....too one-sided. C'mon Hog, lemme muck you up too."

"No."

Junkrat quirked an eyebrow at him. "No? Why the hell not?!"

"Fifty-fifty" Hog said, slowly pushing his finger in. The gasp that came out of the smaller man combined with the look he was giving him made him seriously regret putting his own dick away. "Next time, you can do what you want. Mark me, take me. Whatever. But right now I know more than you, and you're gonna listen to me until you can fit me. Got it?"

He was drooling. Absolutely gone in the sensation of having Roadhog work him over. "G-got it. Ow-Christ."

Roadhog stopped. "Hurt?"

"Little bit." Junkrat nodded, moving his hips up once and gasping again. "Not bad, though. Weird, is all."

Hog chuckled. "You'll get used to it. Be beggin for it sooner or later."

"Sooner." He moaned and bucked his hips again. "Definitely sooner."

He rewarded the thinner junker by releasing his hands, which he really shouldn't have done. As soon as they were free he reached for Hog's pants and shoulder, pulling him into a sloppy kiss as his good hand tried to work in to grab his dick. Hog figured he wouldn't last very long in the state he was anyway, so he reached down to pull it out for him. He thanked god that Junkrat was sensible enough to wrap his good hand around it. He didn't know exactly what he'd feel if the prosthetic had grabbed it instead. Probably fear. The thing had grip strength like a vice. It was, thankfully, using all of that grip strength to drag his shoulder forward for the kiss instead, and damn if the pressure didn't feel good. Sadist and a masochist, he figured himself. Junkrat bit his bottom lip, needy. Hog's finger was going just slow enough to cause friction, but nowhere near fast enough for him.

"Hoggie, c'mon, I'm-ghhh...I'm dyin' here mate." He moved to nip at Hog's chest, whereabouts the only thing he could reach in his hunched over state. "Gettin' closer by th' second."

"I know." He chuckled as he carefully brought Junkrat to the edge, again. The poor scrawny bastard was wracking what was left of his brain to figure out a way to make Hog finish it already. And he wanted to, oh man did he want to, he was aching himself, but making his so called Boss squirm underneath him with the promise that he'd eventually be  _underneath him_ was enough for him.

Unfortunately, as Roadhog had come to learn, Junkrat was a genius, and he usually got what he wanted.

"Mako."

The one word stopped him, for just a second, as he watched Junkrat look up at him with such a wicked amount of need that nothing on the face of the planet would stop him from absolutely and utterly demolishing him.

Fucker.

Hog swatted the smaller man's hand away from his dick and took both of them in his own grip. Junkrat giggled happily in the knowledge that he got exactly what he wanted as he leaned back on the bed, more than satisfied with the situation. He bucked into both of Roadhog's hands, making grunts and noises Roadhog was sure he'd never heard before, but he wanted to hear more of in the future. He savored the string of high pitched curses that held as the telltale sign that he wasn't going to last. It didn't even take five minutes for the younger man to spill into his hand, engulfed by it completely, with his name tumbling from his lips at top volume. He leant over the smaller man, nearly crushing him into the mattress as he too, spilled over into his grip. He rode it out and could feel the hot, sticky puddle between his stomach and Junkrat's, but the lazy, giddy smile on the man below him erased it from his thoughts as he carefully brought both of them down from their high's. He let go only when he knew Junkrat would be able to talk again.

Which was immediately, because Junkrat never shut his goddamn mouth.

"Dreamed of doin' that." He said, completely limp on the bed, voice more hoarse than usual. "Holey dooley. I have...no fuckin' words."

"And yet you're still talking." Roadhog slipped his finger out of Junkrat's ass and wiped it on the blanket. Room Service would deal with that later. He'd deal with the both of them now. "You remembered my name."

Junkrat looked offended. "Of course I remembered your bloody name. Mako Rutledge, The Enforcer. Most feared man in the outback. Heard it enough times on the run to have it seared into my permanent memory."

Roadhog rolled his eyes, even though he was both surprised and relieved that he actually had remembered his name. It made the whole thing feel...different. It felt like something he used to have, a long time ago.

But he was in the present now, and he had to stay there.

"Shower." he said, pointing towards the bathroom door.

Junkat sat up on the bed, as if he hadn't just been worked over within an inch of his life. The man had an endless reservoir of energy that Roadhog rarely ever understood. "Oh, right. We have one of those! Keep forgettin' they exist." He said, absentmindedly dragging a finger through the pool of cum on his stomach. He also, probably half-mindedly, brought said cum-covered finger to his mouth to lick it off.

Roadhog was not going to be subliminally convinced into a round two.

"Shower, now." he said, lifting the junker off of the bed and shoving him towards the bathroom. Junkrat listened, with a scoff, and Roadhog didn't let down his guard until he heard the sounds of prosthetics being removed. 

With a sigh he sat down on the bed, remembering what it felt like to have Junkrat underneath him. He'd said his name. He'd looked up at him like he was the only thing he'd ever wanted to see for the rest of his life. If he were to ask Junkrat, he'd probably say something along the lines of exactly that. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. Out of all the people in the outback he had to genuinely care about, it had to be a six foot tall mouthy twitchy explosion inducing twink that was just crazy enough to view him as the most attractive pig in the wasteland.

He was in deep, he thought to himself, and he didn't feel like swimming to the surface anymore.

Good thing they were hijacking a boat tomorrow.


End file.
